


pretty boy

by citizen



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Boys in Skirts, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 19:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20879648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/citizen/pseuds/citizen
Summary: “This is gay,” Renjun complains as they wait backstage for their turn. The choir is on, and Donghyuck, Renjun thinks disgruntledly, is killing his solo.“Must be hard for you then,” Chenle snipes, pulling up his thigh highs for the nth time. “You know, since you’re gay and all.”





	pretty boy

**Author's Note:**

> cw renjun kinda has a fixation on masculinity? argh idk this is a mess. also sorry to jaemleftists but i think renjun can top whoever he wants <3

He hates every minute of this.

He’s dressed in a generic red tennis skirt someone had snagged off Coupang for less than ten dollars, and a blouse with short puffy sleeves, the ends knotted into a bow so that it appears cropped. It’s Shuhua’s, and she’d managed to wrestle him into it. It’s tight, and she says it looks good on him, but all it does, really, is accentuate his lack of boobs. He’d thankfully managed to veto the heels idea, and is instead wearing white sneakers with pink socks that have frills around the ankle. He’s also sporting a jet black wig, red barrettes tucking the long tendrils of hair behind his right ear.

He doesn’t hate the outfit. For one, he doesn’t mind the makeup, because Shuhua and Yuqi had worked really hard on it and it looks nice. Sure, his head is probably going to stink from sweat after this, and it’s pretty annoying having to tug his shirt down every two seconds so that he doesn’t flash his belly button to everyone who passes him, and the lace on the socks are pretty itchy, and all his friends keep lifting his skirt up in the typical manner of immature teenage boys to see if he’s wearing shorts underneath—which, for fuck’s sake, of course he is! He isn’t planning on flashing his dick to the entire school population anytime soon—but the outfit isn’t the worst part.

What he hates is the way Donghyuck guffaws and Mark chuckles when they see him, the whistles and catcalls, the pats and squeezes he gets on the butt from random schoolmates and strangers he doesn’t even know, the offers for dates he knows are far from sincere by the way the boys snigger behind their hands. He’s not a girl, what the fuck. And even if he was, still what the fuck. Girls are saints for putting up with this, he decides. Maybe he should be a little nicer to Shuhua the next time she decides to annoy the fuck out of him.

And what he really, really hates is the way Jaemin’s gaze turned dark the moment he spotted the outfit, the way his eyes had raked up and down his body and lingered along the expanse of Renjun’s legs, the way he had still sweetly told Renjun, “You look really pretty.”

He’s not pretty. He’s not a girl, even if he’s wearing a skirt and a wig and frilly socks.

“This is gay,” Renjun complains as they wait backstage for their turn. The choir is on, and Donghyuck, Renjun thinks disgruntledly, is killing his solo.

“Must be hard for you then,” Chenle snipes, pulling up his thigh highs for the nth time. “You know, since you’re gay and all.”

“Shut up,” Renjun says and fiddles with the choker around his neck. On the other side of the wings, where the girls are standing in their skinny jeans and baseball caps and french-tucked t-shirts, and combat boots, Shuhua mimes a neck slicing motion at Renjun, and he mimes punching her in retaliation.

Then it’s their turn. The girls rush on stage and perform their sixty-second dance cover of Cherry Bomb, before Renjun finds his feet moving of their own accord and he takes centre stage. He spots Jaemin in the audience, eyes intent and gaze steady, and looks away resolutely. Then the familiar first beats of Miniskirt wash over him, and he lets himself fade away into the music. The crowd goes wild at the chorus when they collectively drag the hems of their tennis skirts upward, teasing. Renjun’s not quite conscious of it but he feels himself winking and blowing kisses to the crowd, even bodyrolling at an opportune moment.

The girls join them back on stage for New Face, then the performance ends and they all hurry off the stage and back into the refuge of their designated tent.

“Renjun, you really went all out huh,” Lucas comments as they clamour for water and the mini-fans the members of the society who hadn’t performed are handing out. “Top of your game. So sexy I could bust a nut.”

“Go big or go home,” Renjun says curtly, aiming a jab in Lucas’ side so he chokes on the water he’s chugging down. “I’m not going to let Yuqi con me into this ever again, so might as well go all out.”

“Why not?” Yangyang asks, already attempting to pull off his wig. “You pulled it off so well.”

Renjun barely resists the urge to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, but just because I’m skinny and short and I look like a bottom doesn’t mean I like wearing girly clothes and doing girly dances,” Renjun snaps impatiently before striding out of the tent.

He’s riled up. He tugs the wig off his head and rakes a hand through his matted, sweaty hair, shaking the rivulets of sweat out of his eyes. He shouldn’t have talked to Yangyang like that, and he shouldn’t have walked out. He has to apologise later, but for now, he exhales a harsh breath and walks off aimlessly into the crowd.

Walking helps. The sights and sounds and smells of all the festival booths and attractions and mascots milling around the campus grounds distract him, until he feels someone tug on his forearm and he’s ready to disembowel the next person who catcalls him, but when he whips around he finds himself face to face with Jaemin.

“Hey,” Jaemin says, shooting Renjun a charming smile. Renjun catches Jaemin’s eyes sneak down to his collarbones. Renjun knows he’s got a good set of collarbones, they’re sexy and he’s pretty sure they’re sporting a fresh sheen of sweat from the performance earlier. He watches Jaemin force his gaze back up, unable to hold back the amused huff that escapes from his nostrils. “You wanna get some fresh air?”

Renjun shrugs, and lets Jaemin lace their fingers together as he leads them out of the festival and back into the building. They trek up four flights of stairs in silence before they reach the school library. Jaemin pushes the door open, and Renjun shivers from the sudden, but not unwelcome, blast of cool air that hits him.

“It’s totally empty,” Jaemin says, walking in and leaning on a desk. “Even the librarian’s gone for the festival. Cool, right?”

It is, and normally, under any other circumstance, Renjun would delight in this, would weave in and out of the towering bookshelves and skip along the pathways. But he’s confused. Confused by Jaemin’s easygoing smile and carefree demeanor, his voice light and cheerful and relaxed. And Renjun’s angry, the steam from earlier still not completely blown off. So he responds the only way he knows how: he walks up to Jaemin and crowds right into his personal space, placing his palms on the desk beside Jaemin’s hips so that he cages him in.

“Jaemin,” Renjun says, slow and enunciated. Jaemin doesn’t back off, and when Renjun opens his mouth Jaemin’s gaze drops back down, right where Renjun knows it would. He nibbles on his bottom lip slightly before swiping his tongue over it, revelling in the way Jaemin’s adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Did you bring me here to fuck me?”

Jaemin swallows. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, dry as ever even though Renjun’s sure he reminded Jaemin to put some lip balm on this morning.

“Why, did the skirt get to you too?” Renjun says drily. He can’t seem to help the words tumbling out of his mouth. He feels like he’s running on hot air and popping candy, sticky and explosive. “Wanna bend me over and fuck me in the ass while you pretend I’m a girl?”

Renjun’s not making sense and he knows it. Jaemin looks at him, long and hard. Renjun stares back, defiant, but leans into Jaemin’s touch when he reaches up to cup Renjun’s jaw.

“I want what you want,” Jaemin says, his words all breath. He brings his face close to Renjun’s, just a hair’s width apart, barely touching. His gaze flickers back and forth between Renjun’s eyes and lips, waiting for, daring Renjun to make the first move, and Renjun can feel Jaemin’s eyelashes flutter against his eyelids with every movement.

Renjun hums, and leans up just slightly into Jaemin’s chest to take Jaemin’s bottom lip between his teeth, and tug. Jaemin exhales, eyes falling shut, hands coming to rest on Renjun’s hips and pulling him between his thighs. Renjun allows this, suckling at Jaemin’s bottom lip before biting at it again. He tastes the metallic tang of blood on the second bite, the dry skin on Jaemin’s lips breaking easily under Renjun’s relentless teeth.

Renjun pulls back a bit, swiping his tongue over Jaemin’s bottom lip to lap up all the escaping blood. Jaemin whines at the sting, parting his lips and leaning forward, but Renjun clams up and pulls back even more, using his nose to nudge Jaemin back in place.

When Jaemin settles, Renjun continues his ministrations, biting and lapping at Jaemin’s closed, chapped lips, occasionally taking a moment to pause and admire how spit-slick and swollen Jaemin’s lips have become. Finally, Renjun’s tongue nudges at Jaemin’s lips, and he slips it into Jaemin’s mouth after Jaemin parts his lips. Renjun’s tongue explores Jaemin’s mouth thoroughly, licking at every crevice. When Jaemin’s tongue starts flicking back, Renjun slips his middle finger into Jaemin’s mouth and holds it down. Jaemin makes a sound, mouth parting even wider in surprise, and saliva trickles out from the sides down his chin and jaw. Renjun temporarily extracts his tongue from Jaemin’s mouth to suck up the saliva, the finger in Jaemin’s mouth tracing lazy circles across his tongue.

As Renjun starts fucking his tongue into Jaemin’s mouth again, his other hand travels to Jaemin’s crotch to deftly undo his zipper, palming roughly at the half hard bulge in Jaemin’s briefs. Jaemin groans, and uses a hand to help Renjun shuck his jeans and briefs down to his knees. He grows fully hard when Renjun starts stroking him off, almost not noticing the finger that has slipped out of his mouth and started rubbing against his rim.

“Wait,” Jaemin gasps, separating his mouth from Renjun’s. Renjun stills. A drop of sweat runs down Jaemin’s temple in spite of the air-conditioner blasting overhead. Jaemin swallows, breath slowing. Renjun waits, his heart pounding in his ears.

“I have lube,” Jaemin says against Renjun’s lips. “And condom. Lucas gave me… back pocket.”

Renjun steps back, his heart beating at double time. He pulls Jaemin’s jeans and briefs off his legs, fumbling for the back pocket and emerging with a small packet of lube and a condom. He pushes Jaemin so that he’s sitting on the table, and bends Jaemin’s legs so that he’s splayed open, asshole visible. He rips open the packet and drizzles some onto his fingers, warming them slightly before pushing one finger into Jaemin.

“Fuck,” Renjun says, spitting onto Jaemin’s rim for extra lubrication. “Your hole is so tight.”

“I haven’t,” Jaemin says, wincing as Renjun starts prodding a second finger in. “Bottomed in a while.”

Renjun hums, stretching Jaemin’s hole and spitting again before sliding a third finger in. He knows he’s hit jackpot when his fingers brush against a nerve and Jaemin keens so loudly it echoes off the walls of the library.

“Look at you,” Renjun coos, “opening up so well. Prepping to get fucked by your baby girl. You like that, huh?”

Jaemin groans, and starts rutting his hips back against Renjun’s fingers needily. Renjun retracts his fingers, Jaemin whining at the loss, ripping open the condom packet. He reaches under his skirt to take his safety shorts and briefs off, rolling the condom onto his already hard dick, and slicks it up with the remaining lube. In a swift movement, Renjun grabs Jaemin’s thighs and heaves upwards, bearing Jaemin’s entire body weight. Jaemin yelps, locking his ankles around Renjun’s waist and arms around Renjun’s neck. He winces as his cock drags along Renjun’s skirt, the leaking precum leaving a small stain in the fabric.

Renjun turns them around and strides up to an empty wall, almost slamming Jaemin’s back against it. Holding Jaemin up against the wall, he positions his cock against Jaemin’s rim, letting the head slide in before he lets go, letting gravity drop Jaemin onto his dick. Jaemin moans from the sudden stretch, fingers clawing into the material of Renjun’s blouse, and Renjun lets him adjust for a moment before he lifts Jaemin again with a surprising steadiness, and slams him back onto his cock. Tears leak out from the corners of Jaemin’s eyes, and he buries his head in Renjun’s shoulder.

“Look at you, big boy,” Renjun says tenderly, a hand reaching up to stroke Jaemin’s hair soothingly. “So obedient, trembling all over for your baby girl’s cock. You wanna get fucked by your baby girl, huh?”

Jaemin whimpers, thighs quivering from strain. Renjun kisses the shell of Jaemin’s ear, admiring the way his muscles clench around his waist before holding him up and starting to fuck into him in earnest again, each slide in and out faster than the last. Renjun almost loses his grip when Jaemin starts to move, grinding down against his dick, but he recovers quickly, thrusting into Jaemin with a renewed fervour. Jaemin comes with a low guttural moan, spurting white liquid onto Renjun’s blouse and skirt. Renjun comes into the condom just a second after as Jaemin clenches tight around him. 

As they slowly come down from their highs, Renjun gently slides out and settles Jaemin onto the floor. But Jaemin’s knees buckle, and Renjun reaches for him in alarm, before mustering the last of his strength to gather Jaemin into a bridal carry, Jaemin’s face tucked sweetly into his neck. He walks back towards the desk so that Jaemin can grab their discarded clothes, before gritting his teeth and carrying Jaemin all the way to the nearest bathroom.

“I know you’re not a girl,” Jaemin mumbles as Renjun sets him onto the bathroom counter, still looking considerably fucked out. “You just looked really hot.”

Renjun snorts, trying to wash the cumstains out of his skirt. “Thanks, Jaemin.”

“There’s no weaseling out of this, Renjun,” Jaemin says, leaning his head against the mirror. “You clearly weren’t happy about something. We’re talking tonight; you can pick the candles.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Renjun says, rolling his eyes. “Put your pants on, stupid.”

Jaemin sits up, pressing a kiss to Renjun’s temple before hopping off the counter in search of tissues and his jeans. Renjun sighs, resigned to his fate.

**Author's Note:**

> who wrote this? absolutely not me


End file.
